With One More Look At You

by Mary J. Williams

  However, hay could be replaced. The fifteen horses that were housed in the nearby stable couldn't. Several were expensive thoroughbreds. Others would be cow ponies. And a few needed extra care after suffering abuse. The animals represented an investment of time, hard work, and years of planning.

  A big portion of Sophie's dreams rested on their handsome heads. If just one of them was injured under her watch—by fire, no less—it would be a huge stain on the reputation she had built with so much care.

  The sound of a truck screeching to a halt was like music to Sophie's ears. Doors slammed, followed by the thud of booted feet hustling in her direction.

  "What the fuck?" Jerry exclaimed.

  If the cowboy had arrived with only a curse on his lips, Sophie would have kicked his ass. Luckily, he had always been a multitasker. He carried with him the rubber hose they kept connected to the waterspout on the far side of the barn. Jerry planted his feet near hers, turning the nozzle on full force. Mike and two other ranch hands joined them with shovels and two wheelbarrows filled with dirt.

  "Where did those come from?" Sophie asked. The men were efficient, but she didn't think they'd had time to pull that together.

  "Maeve wanted us to put in some flowers along the driveway," Mike explained as he doused the remaining fire with shovels of the dark soil. "Had this ready to use first thing in the morning."

  "Handy."

  Mike grinned, putting his back into his job. Sophie took a breath for what felt like the first time since discovering the fire. With the arrival of reinforcements, it was almost out. She lowered the empty extinguisher, setting it aside.

  "I won't ask how you caught this so fast since I already know the answer," Jerry said as he kept the water running on the smoldering hay.

  Sophie had nothing to say. Her habit of taking nocturnal walks wasn't a secret. She functioned just fine on a few hours' sleep. The direction she took depended on her mood. After a long, easy stroll across the open fields, she had felt ready to turn in when a light in the barn—a light that shouldn't have been there—caught her eye.

  "Your insomnia finally paid off," Mike teased, directing the ranch hands to begin pulling down the charred stack.

  Just because they found no visible evidence of glowing embers didn't mean they weren't lurking in the bales. More dirt and more water. They didn't want to take the slightest chance of the fire sparking to life.

  "Once you've soaked the hay thoroughly, load it all into the bed of the truck," Sophie directed. "Then drive it to the dump."

  By the time the last of the cleanup was completed, the sun's first light peeked over the eastern horizon. Sophie felt ready to drop, her mind as weary as her body, but she took the time to make another inspection before declaring the area fire free.

  "Get some sleep," Jerry told her. "You saved the day—or rather the night. We'll take care of the morning chores."

  "Do you smell that?" Sophie asked, ignoring the need to do as Jerry suggested. She knew her limits. She still had a little left in her tank.

  "I smell smoke and wet hay."

  "Try again."

  Frowning, Jerry took a deeper breath. Then another. "Is that…? Son of a bitch! Gasoline."

  Sophie nodded. She had caught the distinctive smell as soon as she entered the barn. This hadn't been an accident. Somebody had deliberately set the fire.

  "We need to call the police," Mike said, removing his gloves. Like the rest of them, his face was covered with sweat, soot, and dirt. Returning from giving the ranch hands some last-minute instructions, he overheard the end of the conversation. "You could dismiss the other things as coincidence. The downed fences and opened gates that led to stray cattle we had to spend our days rounding up. Three times over the past month."

  "It's your job," Sophie reminded him.

  "Don't forget the missing equipment." Jerry piped in.

  "That's why we carry insurance."

  "The company jacked the premium," Mike reminded her. "You had some choice words about that."

  "Fine." With a tired sigh, Sophie leaned against a post near the entrance to the barn. "Somebody is targeting us. What good will it do to call the police? All we have at our disposal is a bunch of inexperienced deputies and the acting chief. Eli Stover is a bumbling fool. Basically Barney Fife with a beer gut."

  Jerry snorted. Mike's lips curved into a tired smile. He couldn't argue with Sophie's spot-on assessment of the current state of the Cloverdale police department.

  Sophie wiped her face, grimacing when her hand came back covered with gritty soot. "I need a shower. Look, guys. Until a replacement is found for Chief Didier, we're on our own. Come on, Dandi. It's past your breakfast time."

  Dandelion—Dandi—for short, left her spot in the corner of the barn to trot after Sophie. The tan-colored dog had an even, unexcitable temperament making her perfect for herding cattle—and staying out of the way in an emergency. While the humans took care of the fire, she stayed patiently waited until Sophie told her it was time to leave.

  Mike followed Sophie, exchanging a guarded look with Jerry. "Sophie—"

  "I'm going to take your advice." Sophie yawned, stretching her arms over her head. "A couple hours shut-eye is just what I need."

  "Sophie…" Jerry hesitated.

  "What?"

  "Well. You see. I… We," he motioned to Mike. "We need to tell you something. What with the fire, we haven't had time until now."

  "I'm listening." Sophie waited, her curiosity piqued. Jerry and Mike never hesitated to speak their minds.

  "Cloverdale has a new chief of police. The mayor is going to make the announcement this morning."

  "That's great news." When neither man answered, Sophie felt a niggling tickle of concern. "Isn't it?"

  "Yes," Mike piped up.

  "Absolutely," Jerry agreed. "It's just…"

  "For the love of Pete. What's the problem?"

  "The new chief?"

  Why were they dragging this out? Sophie sighed, motioning for one of them to get on with it.

  "It's Forbes."

  THE TOWN OF Cloverdale hadn't changed in twelve years. Not in any significant ways. Homes with fresh paint in a different hue plus a new building here or there. An empty lot on one corner where the old Nesmith place used to stand. But overall, it looked like the same place.

  Forbes parked outside the mayor's office, near the pole that sported the American flag, unfurled in all its glory. He left hoping for adventure. Dreaming of seeing the world. He hadn't anticipated just how much he would do and see. There had been no shortage of excitement—to put it mildly. Forbes' smile didn't quite reach his deep-blue eyes. The things he had experienced. The memories he brought back with him. Most were good. Some, not so much. The rest? He wouldn't wish them on his worst enemy.

  One thing Forbes knew. Leaving had been the right decision. What he regretted was staying away for so long.

  Flipping down the visor, Forbes checked his reflection. Not out of vanity. He had a meeting with the mayor, the press—whatever that amounted to these days—and any member of the public that cared enough to show up. He hardly anticipated a throng. However, it wouldn't hurt to get off on the right foot whether he stood in front of two people or twenty.

  There hadn't been a lot of time for primping. When Cloverdale's mayor called, Forbes was in a hospital in Germany. The job offer was the last push he needed to make a decision he had toyed with for months. Two days later, Forbes was on a plane headed for the United States. He didn't carry a completely clean bill of health. But close enough. He had worked through a hell of a lot worse.

  With a grimace, Forbes touched his side. The stitches itched—a good sign, he supposed.

  In all honesty? Forbes knew he looked like ten miles of bad road. He had bags under his eyes. He needed eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. The idea of clean, soft sheets almost made him weep.

  At least he had managed a shower, taking off the funk that tw
elve hours in a military transport plane will put on a body. The pilot—a buddy of long standing—had taken pity on Forbes, letting him use the officer's quarters at Fairchild Air Force Base to clean up and change his clothes.

  A crisp white button-up shirt, a sport coat, and a faded, but clean pair of jeans would have to do. Until recently, Forbes had spent most of his time in areas of the world where there hadn't been a lot of call for anything dressier.

  An hour after landing, Forbes drove off the base in a brand-new, shiny Ford truck decked out with every bell, whistle, and ridiculously useless accessory available. A phone call was all it had taken to have the truck delivered and at his disposal without delay. Because of who he was and who he knew, He had many strings at his disposal to pull when needed.

  Without the engine running, the air in the cab quickly turned from pleasantly cool to sleep-inducing warm. The longer Forbes sat, the heavier his eyelids grew. A loud rap on the window had his head shooting up with a start.

  "Forbes! Stop napping and get your ass out here."

  Shaking himself, Forbes looked out the window. When he saw who it was, he grinned, opening the door without delay.

  "Aaron." The men hugged, holding on tight, slapping each other on the back. It had been too long. Too damn long. "You look good."

  It was true. Aaron had slimmed down since high school. The tailored suit he wore showed off a leaner, trimmer version of the once-hulking football player. Though still imposing, he no longer had the look of somebody who wanted to rip his opponent's head off and dine on his carcass.

  "I'd say the same about you." Aaron gave Forbes one last pat before stepping back. "Unfortunately…"

  "I look like hell. I know. For the sake of my ego, would it have killed you to lie?" Forbes laughed, easily falling into their old, familiar rhythm. "You're a politician now, Mr. Mayor. Fabrication is supposed to come naturally."

  "Sorry, old buddy. My wife has me on a strict truth-only diet."

  "Is Cindy still putting up with your shit? The woman is a saint."

  Slinging his arm over Forbes' shoulders, Aaron headed them toward the courthouse entrance. "Cindy passed sainthood long ago. Owns a successful business. Somehow keeps up with three children. And doesn't look a day older than when we were in high school. I'm a lucky man."

  Cindy finally forgave Aaron for cheating on her. It took time. Patience. And a lot of groveling. But in the end, one thing mattered. She loved him. It gave her the strength and faith to believe his promise that he would never do it again.

  After watching the way Aaron suffered through the breakup. The way he never looked at another woman that summer in Alaska. Forbes believed to his core that his friend kept his promise.

  "All kidding aside," Aaron said, shutting the door to his office. "It's good to have you home, Forbes. I'm not the only one who thinks so. The news that you were taking the chief of police job leaked yesterday. The town has been buzzing ever since."

  "Is that good or bad?"

  After everything that had gone down after he left town, Forbes wondered if the name Branson was still held in high esteem. Or was it tarnished—by association?

  "You were a football hero, Forbes. You were a big reason Cloverdale won State our senior year. The team tries, but they haven't sniffed at a championship since."

  "That was a long time ago, Aaron." A lifetime.

  "Obviously, you've forgotten the power of football in small-town America. Why do you think I was elected? Nobody cared about my stance on recycling or jumpstarting the Cloverdale's economy."

  "Your ability to knock running backs on their asses got you votes?" Forbes laughed at the thought until he realized Aaron was serious.

  "I was there the night Cloverdale won it all. You have my vote." Aaron recited the words with a sing-song, rah-rah tone to his voice as he moved to a sideboard that sported a fancy coffeemaker. Without asking, he filled two cups. "If I heard it once, I heard it a thousand times."

  Gratefully, Forbes took the mug, breathing in the aroma. The fumes alone made his eyes widen, telling him that he and Aaron still liked their coffee done the same way. Unadulterated and strong enough to wake the dead.

  "People are crazy." Forbes took a sip of the steaming liquid, sighing with pleasure.

  "Amen." Aaron agreed. He motioned for Forbes to sit, unbuttoning his jacket before taking his chair behind the desk. "However, if crazy got me elected, I won't complain. Now that I'm here, I plan on working my ass off. Under my watch, I plan on making Cloverdale thrive. With some help from my friends."

  Forbes smiled, recognizing a pep talk when he heard it. Though he didn't know how much he could do to help. Cloverdale had never been a hub of criminal activity. Chief Didier had spent most of his time running down petty thieves and filling out paperwork. Deciding to take the job had been a major decision. Though—in the end—a surprisingly easy one.

  For almost ten years, Forbes had lived life on the edge. Between assignments, he rarely had time to do more than take a breath—sometimes not even that. He was ready for a change. Right now, slow and uncomplicated sounded like heaven.

  "I'll do my part, Mr. Mayor," Forbes said, ending with a jaunty salute. "Though, unless things have taken a drastic turn for the worse, Cloverdale isn't exactly a hub of criminal activity."

  "Things are always changing, Forbes."

  Not exactly ominous. But the tone of Aaron's voice sent a warning prickle down Forbes' spine. He knew and trusted that feeling. In the field, it usually came just before the shit hit the fan.

  "What did you say when you offered me this job?" Forbes set his empty cup on the desk. "That I should come home to rest and relax. You made it sound like I'd spend my time with my feet up and reading People magazine. I don't recall any mention that things had changed. Want to elaborate?"

  "People magazine? Really? I thought you were more of a Sports Illustrated man."

  "I may not be in top form. But I can still kick your ass. Tell me what's going on, Aaron."

  "Nothing major." When Forbes sent him a warning look, Aaron held up his hands. "Honestly. There's been an uptick in minor crimes. We want to nip it in the bud before it goes any further. Combined with the trouble they've been having at the ranch, I thought—"

  "What the hell is going on at the ranch?"

  The prickle along Forbes' spine ramped up several notches, his thoughts instantly turning to Sophie. He hadn't seen her in twelve years. Hadn't spoken to her or exchanged a single letter, email, or text. Yet—for reasons that wrapped themselves around each other in a pattern of complicated twists and turns—she was the person he thought about. First, last, and—no matter how much time passed—always.

  "You didn't know?" Aaron frowned. "I assumed someone would have told you."

  "Obviously not."

  Forbes spoke with Mike and Jerry on a regular basis. And Maeve about once a month. Not once had they mentioned anything was wrong.

  "Again. The trouble is minor. Probably kids causing mischief."

  Forbes wanted details before he decided if the situation was minor or not. Before he could ask—or demand—Aaron to fill him in, the office door opened.

  "I hope the two of you are finished reminiscing because I couldn't wait another second. Welcome home, Forbes."

  "Cindy." Forbes stood, welcoming her embrace. "Now, this is what I call a welcome. Not only are you prettier, but you also smell a lot better than your husband."

  The best way to describe Cindy Green was to say she sparkled. Always had. Her honey-blond hair. Hazel eyes. Her smile. Cindy was bright as a new penny. Aaron said she was as pretty as her high school days. In truth, she was prettier. The girl had become a woman. Still young and vibrant, the added maturity suited her.

  "I'm so sorry about your father," Cindy whispered.

  When Forbes received the news that Newt had died, it had been a shock. Then came the pain far worse than anything he had ever known. It lessened, but he had been left with a dul
l, constant ache that he was certain would never completely go away.

  Giving Forbes another squeeze, Cindy stood back, looking him up and down. "You need some fattening up. And some rest. But even with those bags under your gorgeous blue eyes, you are still the best-looking man I've ever seen."

  "Excuse me?" Aaron pushed an imaginary dagger into his heart. "Is that any way to talk when your husband is in the room? Or when he isn't, for that matter."

  Cindy laughed, taking Aaron's hand and lifting it to her lips. "Forbes is gorgeous. But you, my love, are now, and will always be, the sexiest man alive."

  Watching Aaron and Cindy together warmed Forbes' cynical heart. Happily ever after might not be the norm. But it was possible with hard work and a little luck. Most of all, finding the right person was the key. His friends were that rare, perfect match that—in his experience—mostly existed only in books.

  "I can step outside if the two of you need to be alone."

  Color rose in Cindy's cheeks. Forbes found it amazing—and a bit charming—that a married woman with three children could still manage to blush.

  "Don't be silly." Cindy brushed a kiss across Aaron's lips. Forbes received the same gesture—on his cheek. "You'll come for dinner as soon as you've settled in. That isn't a request. It's an order."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "Good," Cindy said with a decisive nod. "Don't be long. The crowd has been gathering for a couple of hours, and they are getting restless."

  "Crowd?" Forbes sent Aaron a puzzled look.

  "I told you the town was buzzing about your return. In a good way," Aaron rushed to assure him. "Don't worry. This will be short, sweet, and relatively painless. I promise."

  As Forbes knew from bitter experience, painless was a relative term. Often, it was a matter of perspective. In this case, Aaron was far off base. Standing in front of a crowd of people had never been his favorite activity. It was different when he had a football in his hands. Or a baseball bat. In those moments, Forbes had found it easy to narrow his focus, blocking out everything but the play on the field. Today, he stood on public display. The crowd—at least two hundred of them if his quick headcount was close to right—had come with the express purpose of sizing him up.